


If All We Have is Time

by grimdarkpixels



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Bittersweet Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existential Angst, Gen, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 11:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17703401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimdarkpixels/pseuds/grimdarkpixels
Summary: The road is long. Two strangers sit side by side as night falls over. The car speeds down the open highway. Without a soul around them, everything seems to slip away. On a journey to who knows where, all they have is words and time.And that time is dwindling fast.(An AUblatantly copied frombased onThe Shadows That Run Alongside Our Car)





	1. Evening

“Gun it!”

He doesn't have to say it twice. Markus puts the pedal to the floor, not daring to look back at the undead beasts that are no doubt running after them. The wheels of the old pick-up truck screech as they pull out onto the main road. The car swerves as it moves, but it's less of a concern than getting as far away from the gas station as possible.

It's not too long before they make it to the highway, and there's nothing but empty farmland as far as the eye can see. That's when Markus breathes out a sigh of relief and eases his foot off the gas pedal.

Now it's just him, a near-stranger, and a long road ahead.

Markus doesn't say anything, and neither does his passenger. The unchanging scenery outside the car windows passes by in abstract, like the world itself has given up on having any meaning. It's mind numbing, almost suffocating. But Markus still doesn't break the silence.

After who knows how long, he hears the sound of the passenger window being rolled down. He doesn't take his eyes off the road, but he raises an eyebrow and turns his head towards the stranger. “Are you sure that's a good idea?” he asks.

The passenger just folds his arms and shrugs, which Markus barely sees from his peripheral vision. “It's not like zombies are just going to throw themselves at a truck…” he leans over and glances at the speedometer before continuing, “that's going 80 miles an hour.”

“How can you be sure?” Markus glances at the rolled down window anxiously for a second. Why did they have to get stuck with sprinting zombies?

“Have _you_ seen a zombie since we left the station?”

Okay, that's a good point. It's completely empty out here. The most interesting thing Markus has seen since they got out of the last town was a bit of long-dead roadkill. “Fair enough.”

Then there's a break in the conversation. Markus drums his fingers against the steering wheel. When he's sure the road is straight and he won't crash, he risks a look at the man in the passenger seat.

In Markus’ own opinion, the guy isn’t bad looking, considering the circumstances. His hair is dark and straight, but a little tangled from spending the past few nights on the road. The moles speckled across his face and the bags under his warm brown eyes look even darker against his pallid skin. Combined with the white of his uniform, he almost looks like a ghost. His head is resting against the doorframe, and one of his arms has fallen down to rest on his stomach.

What is he thinking about?

“So…” Words are falling out of Markus’ mouth before his brain can catch up. “I know I should've asked about three days ago, but what's your name, anyway?”

His passenger blinks and looks over at him. “Right…we never did introduce ourselves, did we? My name is Connor.”

_Connor_. Markus thinks he remembers learning what that name means at some point, but his memory fails him. Either it meant ‘brave warrior’ or ‘lover of hounds’. Maybe both. It doesn't really matter, Markus figures, and he lifts a hand from the steering wheel to scratch his beard.

“Nice to officially meet you, then, Connor. I'm Markus.”

“Okay,” Connor says, then goes back to looking out the window.

Hm. Markus is sure Connor can tell he's a bit underwhelmed by that reaction, but he probably should have expected it. Over the past couple of days, Connor hasn't exactly been much for conversation. Hell, it took them three days to so much as tell each other their names, and that speaks for itself, really.

The car shudders as they rumble over a pothole, which forces a panicked swear out of Markus as he diverts his attention back to the road. The disturbance in the road is brief, and the asphalt smooths out before Markus can really do anything. Aside from the hum of the engine, and the occasional bump in the road, they keep on driving in silence for a while.

“What were you doing before…everything happened?” Connor asks.

Despite himself, Markus feels his eyebrows shoot up. He’s pretty sure this is the first time Connor has started a conversation. “Beg your pardon?” he replies, worried that he’s just hearing things.

“Uh…I asked what you did… Nevermind, it’s none of my--”

“N-No, no, it’s fine,” Markus is quick to insist before he leans back in his seat a little bit. What the hell was he doing before everything happened? He remembers getting into a screaming match with his half-brother, their dad trying to placate them both, but not much else. But he can’t tell Connor about that. _‘I came from a broken family, dropped out of medical school, and then spent two years as a miserable drifter. Impressive, right?’_

Yeah. No.

“I was…moving. Cross-country. I was thinking about becoming a nurse for a long time, but…yeah, everything went south before then.” Markus worries his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, pointedly focusing on the road like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

The air in the car feels tense with the attention shifted on him and his past, so he releases his lip and glances over at Connor. “What about you? This is your car, isn’t it?”

Connor nods and turns away from his window. “Mm-hmm. Well, technically it’s my dad’s car. _Was_. But even when he was alive, I was the one driving it 90% of the time.”

The emphasis on ‘was’ makes dread settle in Markus’ stomach, thick and heavy. “Ah. So he didn’t…? Er, nevermind.”

_He didn’t make it,_ is what he wants to say, but he remembers his dad’s face mid sentence. He was so sick the last time Markus saw him. Where was he now? Dead, almost certainly. After a couple of months of this, there was no way they’d be able to find prescription meds for him anymore. Markus swallows, but his throat doesn’t feel any less dry.

“It’s fine. His diet would’ve done him in eventually.”

Markus, unable to find a good response, lets the conversation wither to nothing.


	2. Sunset

The silence is deafening.

Neither of them say anything for hours. They drive right into the sunlight for a long time, and Markus is distracted by his own reflection in the sun visor the whole time. He looks like hell; he hasn't shaved in months, and dirt and grime covers his entire body, blood and dust against the copper color of his own skin. The scarring on his face seems more prominent than it normally is; the cut next to his blue eye in particular looks like it's gotten paler. He actively welcomes the sharp turn in the road just so he doesn't need to look at himself anymore.

They drive through a rural town, and the one zombie they find manages to get a grip on the rear view mirror on Connor’s side before slipping off, but that’s all the action they see. Eventually, Markus just can’t cope with the silence anymore.

“Pretty quiet in here, isn’t it?” he pipes up.

Connor merely glances up from the window for a second and quietly scoffs. “Yeah. Not much noise at the end of the world, in case you haven’t noticed.”

His tone is icier than it was before. Or maybe Markus is imagining things. His eyes flit to Connor’s face, and he sees soft brown eyes trained on the radio.

“You think there are any radio stations left?” Markus asks, because now he’s genuinely curious. It’s been months since he’s had time to check, but if there was anything out there, it sure would be a miracle to hear.

“They’ve all probably been overrun by now,” Connor says rather bluntly. “…I guess it couldn’t hurt to check, though.”

And with that said, Connor starts fiddling with the dial. Static fades in and out, occasionally playing over metallic screeching or something that sounds like a melody or a voice, but melts back into nothingness. But then…

“Wait a minute, go back down?”

Either his mind really is playing tricks on him, or Markus just heard something. Connor twists the dial back in the opposite direction until they hear the same noise again, phasing in and out until something comes into auditory focus.

_“Tú, tú eres el imán y yo soy el metal_

_Me voy acercando y voy armando el plan_

_Sólo con pensarlo se acelera el pulso…”_

…Holy shit. Markus can practically see the cogs turning in Connor’s head before he comes to the realisation of what’s playing.

“Is that…Despacito?”

And that confused murmur of disbelief proves to be too much for Markus. He snorts from poorly contained laughter, and from there, he just can’t help himself. The sound is unmistakable; spanish guitars blast joyfully over the speakers while smooth, sensual vocals drown out the static entirely. Meanwhile, Markus is laughing so hard he has to concentrate twice as hard so he doesn’t crash the car. Connor isn’t faring much better; Markus can’t look directly at him, but he sounds like he’s halfway to pissing himself.

Between gasps for air, Markus manages to wheeze, “I did _not_ see that coming. Who’s even out there running this?”

“O-Of all the music that could be left!” Connor chuckles, and good lord, that laugh is like music.

“Jesus…” Markus sinks back in his seat and lets his mind drift to the music. The dissonance is almost comforting; definitely welcome, compared to the dead silence from a few minutes ago. If he concentrates, he can pretend he’s sitting in his old dorm room, watching one of his old friends from college standing on a coffee table, drunkenly singing along to someone’s meme playlist while he cheers them on, probably equally drunk. For a second, he almost believes it.

The music eventually comes to a stop, before starting up at the beginning a few seconds later.

“Oh no. Why is it playing again? Ugh it's probably on an endless loop,” Connor sighs.

“Seems to be the case,” Markus affirms. “I guess it’s just a ghost on the waves, after all.”

“Mm. And the undead aren’t particularly big on DJ-ing.”

That gets another snicker from Markus. “What do you think a zombie would even listen to?”

“Would death metal be too obvious? What about Rob Zombie? Or maybe they’re all really into BABYMETAL.”

Markus starts wheezing again. “Oh God, I can’t breathe. I’m gonna pass out, and then we’re both gonna crash and die, all because of _fucking Despacito._ ”

“That’s so sad…”

“Connor, if the next word of that sentence is ‘Alexa’, I swear to God I’ll turn this car around.”

“Be my guest. Just bear in mind we’re many, many hours away from the gas station and the world is in absolute chaos.”

“Eh, it’s not too bad right now. I mean, that aside.” Markus gestures vaguely at the radio.

Connor shifts in his seat to face Markus more directly. “What are you into, anyway? Music-wise.”

“Oh, I’m not sure. I’ve never been too picky about my music tastes. I like basically anything I can play on piano. What about you? Don’t tell me it’s BABYMETAL.”

Connor puts a hand to his chest in mock astonishment. “How did you know?! Heh…jokes aside, I’m pretty into rock. Def Leppard, Green Day, Queen…I also have a few ABBA songs I like, but those are more because I had to listen to them every day for years.”

“Damn.”

“Hey, their music is catchy. I mean, I know ABBA is normally for old white soccer moms, but…I don’t know.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m not judging you for it. Hell, I listened to almost exclusively swing music when I was growing up.”

Connor visibly shakes with silent laughter. “Swing music? Jesus, your childhood music tastes are older than my parents.”

“I’m well aware. No need to rub it in, thank you. How old even are you? You seem a little young for Def Leppard.”

A dubious look flashes on Connor’s face and he leans forward slightly, but not enough to obscure Markus’ view of the road. “How old are _you?_ ”

“27,” Markus replies plainly.

“What?! Okay, now you have no right to judge my music tastes, Mr. “I listened to swing for my entire childhood”. I'm 25, if you need to know.”

“Huh.”

Christ, that’s so young. Not that Markus is much older, but still. What was he doing when _he_ was 25? Barely getting through school, bickering with Leo every other day, probably. None of them have even been adults for that long, and the world around them is Hell on Earth.

It’s not fair. Markus tries not to make a face, but he feels his grip on the steering wheel tighten.

“This music has a similar vibe to swing, doesn’t it? Like, they’re both really upbeat and everything? You should be happy to have it!” Connor says.

Staring down at the radio, Markus just shrugs. “That…sure is an optimistic take on it, I guess.”

How many times has this song looped? However long it’s been playing, it’s gotten less funny and more annoying. “Alright, that’s enough,” Markus sighs, turning the dial a sharp left. The radio goes silent, and for once, Markus welcomes it. Now it’s just him and Connor. Again.

They're well and truly alone out here, aren't they? Markus hasn't seen another lifeform for miles, and the long stretch of road ahead of them is completely barren. He turns to face Connor directly, slightly taken aback when he realises just how close their faces are.

Words just fall out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Did you ever expect things to turn out like this?”

That makes Connor pause for a moment, before he turns his head back toward the window. “…It’s getting dark, isn’t it? The sun sets so late in the summer.”

The poor guy probably just doesn’t want to think about it. Markus can’t really blame him, so he quietly drops the topic and turns back to the road. “I’m a little surprised we have any light at all, at this hour. Especially since all the streetlights are out. It’s like the sky has just been saving up its light…”

Staring at the horizon, he can see the sun peeking over hills and trees; merely black silhouettes against the deep reds and oranges of the sky. “It looks like a dying fire,” He thinks aloud.

In the corner of his eye, he sees Connor slump in his seat. “Yeah. Like it was waiting for the world to die along with it.”

And the conversation, once again, peters out from there. _Still,_ Markus thinks, _it was nice while it lasted._


	3. Dusk

“I just realised…”

Markus’ hesitant voice cutting through the silence gets Connor to lift his head up from the head rest. “Hmm?”

“You never told me what it is you do,” Markus says. “Or rather did, before everything.”

Connor doesn't reply, and Markus starts tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “It doesn't have to be a job or anything, but…was there anything you liked to do? Or…hm.”

He tries to squint so he can see the road, but the daylight is just too dim. Making an annoyed sound, he flips on the headlights and hopes the battery doesn’t drain too fast.

An apology for bringing up the topic starts to form in his head when Connor speaks up. “I worked a lot, actually,” he admits. Then something flickers across his face, and he folds his arms across his chest. “I didn’t have much time for anything else. I’d wake up, eat, go to work…have a lunch break, get back to work…then I’d get home, eat dinner, have a shower, and by then, I’d be too tired to do anything else. So I’d go to sleep, and the whole cycle would start over in the morning. That was it.”

“I guess that’d be most people’s story,” Markus sighs. “It’s tough out there. Er, was tough. It’s probably a lot tougher now.”

Connor doesn’t say anything, so Markus keeps talking. “Hah…it all feels kind of pointless in the end, doesn’t it? You work yourself to the bone, but everything crumbles to bits around you anyway…and you just can’t stop wondering why you didn’t spend your time better, you know?”

The road ahead, bathed in dim light, is barely holding Markus’ attention. His thoughts are too muddled, too plagued with what ifs and what could have beens. He almost doesn’t hear it when Connor says, “Yeah.”

The passenger seat creaks as Connor shifts and folds further in on himself. “It’s not like it matters either way, now. And…what about you? I’m sure you did more in life than listen to swing.”

Ah. Pointedly not looking at his passenger, Markus clears his throat and replies, “I used to travel a lot. You know, looking for work. Trying to make a name for myself. I’ve been sort of a lone wolf for a while now, though.”

Wow, where did that word choice come from? “That sounds really stupid and cliché, now that I say it out loud…” he mumbles mostly to himself.

“Not really. It sort of suits you,” Connor remarks.

Markus feels a small, lopsided grin on his face. “Tsh, really?”

“Yeah.”

A quiet chuckle rumbles in Markus’ chest, but it’s short lived. For some reason, he feels like he can be honest with Connor. He realises he’s been absentmindedly tapping the steering wheel, so he tightens his grasp on it before he speaks.

“Truth be told, I haven’t really…I haven’t had much purpose in my life for a long time. I’ve just been getting by. Existing, but not really living, you know? When you can’t find anything to do, nowhere you can call home, it, uh… You can find yourself in a pretty dark place. It’s easy to lose yourself somewhere along the way.”

He worries at the inside of his cheek for a second and leans back in his seat. How long has he been keeping this to himself? He doesn’t remember. He’s afraid to try. “It got to the point that I wished I could take a vacation from…from _life._ ” A quick glance out at the dark scenery outside causes him to laugh mirthlessly. “Well, be careful what you wish for, I guess.”

“Wishes never do come true in the way you expect them to,” Connor concedes.

“Mm.”

Just then, Connor sucks in a sharp intake of breath. The sound is startling enough that Markus tears his eyes off the road for a second. In the dim light of the car, Markus can see Connor’s hand pressed against his stomach. He purses his lips and looks down the empty stretch of road.

Markus isn’t sure if Connor knows he knows, but ever since they met, something's been…off. Something is wrong with Connor's stomach, but Markus doesn't know what. Every time he thinks about it, he kicks himself for dropping out of med school. Not that his medical knowledge would be enough to help without any supplies, but still…he just wishes he could do _something,_ since it’s clearly not getting better on its own.

“You’re still feeling nauseated?” he asks.

“Huh? Oh, right…it was better for a little while, but…” Connor sighs and Markus sees his arm move away from his stomach. “I’m just tired, which doesn’t help matters. You know how it is.”

But his voice is thinner than it was, and he sounds strained. God, Markus really should have stayed in school. There’s not enough light for him to see Connor properly, and he briefly considers turning on the overhead light, but decides against it.

“Do you wanna stop and rest?” he settles on asking.

“No,” Connor says quickly. “No, I’m okay as it is. And like it or not, we’ll be stopping soon, anyway.” He gestures at the fuel gauge, currently sitting just under one quarter full. They barely managed to fill the tank up before they got spotted by the herd; no time to fill up the spare can. Not that they could do much about that now, though.

“Right. Onwards it is, then.”

Connor leans as far back as the seat will allow and shakily exhales, and Markus feels his heart ache just a bit. Seeing Connor in pain, hearing his labored breathing in the passenger seat, it’s sort of killing him. He’d wager a guess that if he could see the brunet properly right now, his skin would be even paler than it was before. Probably even turning some sickly shade of green. The next time they stop, they should look around for medicine. Painkillers, bandages, antibiotics, anything.

_God,_ please _let there be something left,_ Markus thinks as the sun sinks completely behind the horizon.


	4. Nightfall

When someone speaks again, it’s pitch black outside, save for the headlights. Markus is, admittedly, starting to black out intermittently. He’d consider that a problem, if it weren’t for the fact that no one else is on the road. Connor is almost writhing where he sits, the pain clearly becoming too much to bear.

“Do you ever wonder…” he begins to say, but it sounds raspy. Like he badly needs a drink. Markus can feel empathy twist through his heart painfully.

“Wonder what?” Markus whispers.

After clearing his throat, Connor summons his voice, more strongly this time. “…Like, why us? How did we make it this far? And is it really such a good thing that we’re…s-still alive?”

If Markus had a dollar for every time that he had, he’d be able to afford therapy. “I try not to think too hard about that, honestly. If I stopped to ponder what my own life is worth, I…” He stops to shake himself awake and rub his face. “It’s a dangerous train of thought, to be sure. But we’re here now. And that’s what matters. Here, and safe, despite the odds. The how and why is just…background noise.”

“Hmm,” is all Connor says in reply.

Okay, Markus is honestly halfway to falling asleep at the wheel. He knows he can’t; they need to keep going at least until they reach another town or something, but the humming of the engine is like a dissonant lullaby. He almost considers turning the radio back on, but then…

“I didn’t believe it at first, you know,” Connor croaks. “I mean, that we were really facing the apocalypse or whatever. The first couple weeks, I just…kept on working. Like nothing was wrong. Until…”

Shit. Markus can’t imagine what that must have been like. When it started, it was all over the news. He got caught in the thick of it a couple of times, only barely managing to outrun the chaos unfolding around him. And even then, he was only outrunning the people who were running with him.

Chills run down his spine at those memories.

“Look, you don’t need to answer me if you don’t want to, but…what happened to your dad?”

It’s much too dark to see Connor’s face anymore, much less judge his response to such a question.

“Hah…so he needed whiskey, right? Because he was a deadbeat drunk. But the bar he frequented was closed because, you know, the apocalypse. So he went off to another bar on the far side of town.”

Markus hears the chair creak as Connor sits back and lets out a rattly sigh. “And as it turns out, that part of town was infested.”

Markus can’t stop himself from gasping. Either Connor doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care.

“I didn’t even notice for a while, since he wasn’t that different from usual. He wasn’t playing Russian roulette anymore, so I thought it was a fucking improvement, at the time,” he laughs mirthlessly. “Pretty pathetic isn’t it? But so was my dad…and in the end, I won’t be doing much better.”

There are tears in Connor’s voice, and Markus’ heart shatters at the sound. _Don’t say things like that, Connor,_ he pleads inwardly. _One of us has to keep this up, for God’s sake._

After checking that the road ahead is straight and clear, Markus slips his right hand off the wheel and lets it rest on Connor’s left hand, resting on his leg next to the center console. He half expects the brunet to pull away from the contact, but he doesn’t. Instead, his shoulders relax, and Markus thinks he hears him sigh.

In that moment, he realises just how cold Connor’s skin is. Far too cold, even if the window is still open. It’s not _that_ cold outside. Maybe it’s because he’s sick. For the umpteenth time, Markus wishes he knew more about medicine so he could at least try to help. He at least knows it’s not a fever, or he…his skin would be hotter. This is no normal chill. But…

“We’re still here,” Markus says, squeezing Connor’s hand. “Just remember that. Until that changes, there’s still time. Things might never get any better. It’d be foolish to assume that they would. But as long as we’re still breathing, there’s hope.”

It’s not until Markus feels Connor’s breath against his cheek that he realises he’s been leaning in. He moves back a little bit, and he feels his face heat up in embarrassment. “Ah…that was pretty cheesy, wasn’t it?” he jokes weakly, before moving back to where he was and withdrawing his hand.

“Um…anyway. I’m sorry about…your dad. Even if you didn’t get along with him, it’s never easy losing someone that close to you.”

“…I…I honestly felt elated when it happened,” Connor whispers. “And then I felt horrible for feeling relieved. But…I spent twelve years taking care of him. I resented him for that, I think.”

Jesus. How much has this poor guy been through? “I get it. Don’t worry too much about it, alright? There’s no wrong way to feel.”

"Isn't there?" Connor tips his head back against the headrest, staring up at the roof of the car before he just squeezes his eyes closed. "I thought everything was his fault for so long. For my brother. For Mom leaving. I blamed him so much. He was selfish. He was an asshole. He was this, he was that, and the whole damn time, I never considered how awful it was for him. How much I contributed to it all. I was so focused on keeping myself stable that I used him as the scapegoat.

"…And now I'll never get a chance to apologise for being so fucking _stubborn_ ," he whimpers.

Markus sighs through his nose and gently turns the wheel as the road bends. It takes the restraint of a god to hold back tears of sympathy. “Shit. I should probably feel privileged. No one I care about has been around for a long time.”

Looking up at the sky, all Markus sees is darkness. If he squints, a few stars peek out from behind clouds. “I wonder if there’s anybody still out there,” he murmurs. “Stuck out here, just like us… I wonder if we’ll ever know.”

Connor says something under his breath, but it’s inaudible over the engine. The conversation dies again for quite some time.


	5. Then We'll Be Alright

If the car’s clock is set properly, it’s almost 1 AM now. The highway is as dead as it always was, but now it feels emptier than ever. Almost sinister, in a way. Like the shadows that run alongside their car are merging into one giant mass, waiting to swallow them whole. If Markus was nodding off before, he’s on the brink of passing out, now.

But they can’t stop. Not yet. Not when there’s so much farther to go. Even if--

“Hey…Markus?”

Even whispering, Connor’s voice is low and raspy. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he continues, putting a hand on his stomach again. Markus gets a sinking feeling in his.

Latent instincts tell him to stop taking his eyes off the road, but he does it anyway to look at the passenger. But he still can’t see him properly. Battery be damned, he turns on the overhead light.

Wow. Connor looks really bad; worse than Markus has seen yet. His eyes are dark and tired, his skin yellowish green and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he’s lost for words. The feeling of dread settles harder in Markus’ gut, unrelenting.

“I should’ve said something way sooner. I-I wanted to, but…”

Connor visibly gulps and makes direct eye contact with Markus. “I was scared. I’m _still_ scared.”

_No. No, no, God, please don’t let this be real. Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say._

He should’ve known. He’s heard so much unreliable crap about the symptoms, but clearly some of those sources had at least some of their facts straight. For once, Markus wishes they’d gotten it all wrong.

“I--”

“Hey, stop,” Markus interrupts. “It’s…it’s fine. You don’t need to say it out loud.”

“But I…”

“Just…keep calm, alright?” he says, and he’s honestly not sure whether he’s saying it to Connor or to himself. “I mean, we don’t quite know how all this works yet, so…maybe there’s a way.”

He smiles as he concludes his sentence, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s all he can do not to reach out and take Connor’s hand again, for his own sake.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, instead.

“Not as much as I expected it to,” Connor admits. “Mostly, I’m just cold. And hungry. And I’m not sure if either of those things are even connected to being bitten.”

His eyes fall to his stomach, and his hands hover at the hem of his shirt for a second. Before Markus fully realises what he’s doing, Connor’s already pulling his shirt up a little and _fuck,_ he can’t stand to look at it, because that makes it _real._ It’s red and inflamed, blood and infected pus oozing from murky yellow teeth marks which only stand out against the purple, bruised flesh. It’s a canvas of sickness, held together with nothing but a fear of death, and Markus wants to cry at a mere glimpse of it.

“If it wasn’t right _there,_ burning like hell, I might think I just imagined it.”

He drops his shirt and the wound is covered up again, and Connor runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further. “I…I wish I was dreaming right now,” he says softly, tears falling from his eyes. “I wish this wasn’t reality.”

Fucking hell. Markus thought he was keeping it together for a while there, but he can’t ignore the dryness in his throat, the burning at the corners of his eyes. He grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles go white.

“Careful there… Remember that thing about wishes?” he says in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood.

And through the tears, Connor gives Markus a soft laugh. “Yeah. I guess sitting in a car with a guy like you beats having my supervisor play favorites with her employees and singling me out for making simple mistakes… Silver lining.”

“Psh. Retail?”

“Tech support. Almost as bad as zombies.”

“Worse, probably.”

That, of all things, gets Connor to laugh in earnest, and Markus can’t help but smile with him, even as the tears in his eyes become too heavy and spill down his cheeks.

He sighs and looks back up at the road. “Anyway, you should sleep, if you want to,” he suggests. “We’ll probably be on this road for a while.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Connor says as he wipes his face dry. “Will you… Will you wake me up if anything happens?”

As he says it, he rests his arm on the center console. Markus can see there’s enough space on it to rest his own. Without a second thought, his hand settles on top of Connor’s again.

“Of course,” he says, with as much sincerity as he can convey through speech. “And hey, there has to be somewhere better down the road, right? Better than back there, at least.”

“Yeah. Maybe we’ll find a radio station that plays Def Leppard and swing.”

If there is or ever was a radio station like that, Markus would love to hear it. Or, hell, meet the person who ran it. Life’s too short not to do whatever you want. But at any rate, now wasn’t the time to be dwelling on that. The warning light beside the fuel meter has been blinking for some time now, and Markus has no idea how long the tank will last. The only option in front of them is to drive until they can’t anymore.

“Markus, I…”

“Hm?”

Hesitantly, Connor flips his hand over and intertwines his fingers with Markus’ own. Markus feels his eyebrows shoot up, and he meets Connor’s hopeful eyes.

“I just…I want you to know, in case…” He shakes his head and restarts his sentence. “I need you to know, whatever happens… I’ve never met someone like you. I’m glad I got to know you.”

Markus pauses for a second. He swears he feels heat rising to his face as he returns Connor’s faint smile.

“Me, too,” he says, squeezing Connor’s hand.

“What are you thinking about?”

For a moment, Markus looks back to the road ahead. He’s sure he’d be blushing right now if his skin was any lighter. “…Do you want me to be 100% honest?”

Connor nods quickly enough for it to be a little amusing.

“I’m wondering whether or not…I don't know if it's too soon or… W-Would it be weird if I kissed you?” He brings his eyes back to Connor and smiles nervously, and the astonishment written across his face nearly makes him laugh out loud.

“Wow…I mean…shit. I think I want to, but I’m…” He gestures at his face. “You know?”

And Markus has no idea what possesses him in that moment, but he leans in and presses his lips to Connor’s.

It’s a few seconds too long to be considered a peck, but it’s chaste; he wishes they could go further, but between him driving and Connor’s health, there’s too much risk. Still, the look of wide-eyed shock on Connor’s face when he pulls away is absolutely worth it. A brilliant scarlet flush makes its way to the brunet’s face, his free hand ghosting over his lips. “…Fuck.”

And that’s what gets Markus chuckling, on the verge of crying again. _Fuck,_ absolutely sums up everything that’s happened today. He barely restrains the impulse to kiss Connor again, but he leans in until their noses brush against one another’s. This time, he lingers for as long as he can allow himself before pulling back and focusing his eyes back on the road.

“Get some sleep. I’ll be here,” he says. He lets go of Connor’s hand for a second to turn off the overhead light, but he links their fingers together again right after, and smiles when he feels Connor hold on tighter.

“I know you will,” he replies, closing his eyes with a smile.

“Goodnight, Connor.”

Connor’s contented sigh is all the reply he needs. The road ahead of them is long, and their course is true.

Nowhere to run but forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thats all folks ;(
> 
> ok but in all seriousness i like this game. like a lot. its pretty underrated, but its short at the same time, so i can sort of understand. there are multiple endings; this is the best ending from the driver's perspective, but there are three in total with two variations depending on whether someone is playing the driver or the passenger's perspective.
> 
> long story short if anyone cares enough i might write this again from connors perspective with different outcomes. not immediately ofc since school exists and im going away for a few days after this but idk man i just think this games neat ;w;


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